


Stigmata

by xenoglossia (oncharredwings)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Character Death, Dark, Fire, First Dates, First Kiss, Horror, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Murder, Resurrection, Sloppy Makeouts, Trans Male Character, Witch Hunters, Witches, i haven't written in so long idk what to tag this as, is it really major character death if they basically start off dead?, isa comes off as a bitch what else is new, magic is weird, trans sora, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 17:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22467160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/xenoglossia
Summary: Rising to his feet, he turns to walk away and there is a flash of a vision in front of his eyes. He’s standing in the black void of limbo and he meets pained golden eyes.Please, comes a desperate whisper.Help me.“Help you?” he asks out loud.Come back.Help me come back.
Relationships: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Isa/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Sora/Yozora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted on here since June of 2019 ; dear God, it has been a long time. I haven't written and was in the worst creative slump which I sometimes do when I go nonstop without a single breath. I am hoping this story keeps up my new found momentum but this time I'm writing for ME. The first time I've ever said that... I always wrote to please other people but this is entirely for me and I do not care if no one else but me consumes the material, I am doing this for myself. 
> 
> If you made it here, I hope you enjoy and, as always, mind the tags

“Have you ever heard of the Swamp Man?”

Vanitas’ ears prick as he hears children giggle and talk about the town’s legendary Swamp Man; a man so ugly, legend has it, that the towns’ people chased him out into the swamp so they wouldn’t have to look at him every single day. A man so cruel, others say, he was cast out of the village and sent to live in isolation because mothers feared for their children. A murdered. A rapist. An arsonist. A dead man. A zombie. A monster.

His fingers dig into the dirt beneath the bush he’s hiding behind and he digs furiously, pulling up twigs and worms as he goes. The kids don’t know anything around here and they’re all stupid.

“What are you doing,  _ freak _ ?” comes a voice much louder than before.

Vanitas startles and turns around, eyes wide, as he realizes the group of kids he’d been spying on have caught him in his game. He looks up at them, trying to be smaller and unimposing. They’re younger than him, probably nine or ten while he’s fifteen but he still has a need to be their friends. Even if they’re all stupid.

“Nothing,” he says, blushing when his voice cracks.

The kids snort and laugh at him. “Stinky Vanitas,” one of them chants and the others quickly pick it up until they’re all chanting it at him like a spell.

Embarrassment and rage prickle his skin and fills him with hatred. “Shut up!” he screams at them but they just laugh harder. One of them picks up some mud and throws it at him. The clod smacks him in the face, spattering his clothes and hair. “Stop!”

“Spying on us again, Vanitas?” a kid spits. “Don’t you have friends your own age? It’s super creepy, maybe I’ll tell my mom you showed us your wang and she’ll call the cops and have you locked up.”

“It’s where he belongs. I heard he touched Lisa under her underwear,” a girl says, nodding as if she knows everything.

Vanitas’ face burns red and he covers his ears, wanting to block out their lies and slander. He’s never done anything to anyone in this town because no one likes him. No one likes him because he’s the Swamp Man’s son.

“Go back to the swamp where you came from!”

“I said shut up!” Vanitas screams and his fingers find a rock. Rage makes his vision go red and the rock leaves his hand before he can think twice. When his vision clears, his eyes widen when he notes one of the children is lying on the ground, unmoving, while the rest run screaming away from him. The sounds fade until he can only hear his own labored breathing and his heart hammering in his ears.

The child doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Vanitas says, slowly easing over next to the boy to place his hand on his chest. No heartbeat and no breath in his lungs. “Hey, wake up.” He gives the kid a shake but he doesn’t stir. “I said wake up!”

Panic fills Vanitas’ chest like water in the lungs. Father will kill him if he finds out about this. He turns the boy’s chin to see the ugly red wound on the side of his temple. The rock, bloodied, lies a few feet away. Vanitas whimpers and tugs on his hair, unsure of what to do. Soon, the other kids will drag their parents out to see the dead boy and he’ll be thrown in jail.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he whispers, trying to will the boy to open his eyes. Of course, if the boy wakes up, he’ll still be in trouble. The boy will tell his parents and then he’ll still end up arrested.

He turns around in a circle, debating on dragging the boy back to the swamp but he’ll be seen before he can dump the body. Plus the rock is still a problem. Vanitas takes a breath and places his hands on the boy’s chest, pushing, unsure if he can punch or push the kid’s heart into starting. He closes his eyes and focuses on the boy’s breathing and heart, envisioning it restarting and pumping blood through the boy’s body, and air going down into the kid’s lungs. There’s a long moment where he hears nothing at all, not even birds in the trees, and then there is a gasp and the boy sits up.

Vanitas yanks his hands away and curls into a defensive position in case the kid wants revenge. He watches as the boy looks around, completely startled to be alive, taking in slow, deep breaths through his nose. Terrified eyes swing over to him and Vanitas keeps himself curled up and small. They stare at one another without words until the boy stands up and backs up toward the bushes, fear making his pupils large.

“You really  _ are _ a freak,” he whispers and Vanitas watches as the kid’s shorts darken in the front when he pisses himself.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispers, a small plea in which he has a feeling falls on deaf ears.

The kid shakes his head and runs away, stumbling on newborn legs. Vanitas leaps over to grab the rock, bloodied and sticky, before running away from the park and back to the swamp. The air condenses and draws thickly in his lungs as he takes paths he knows well. He drops the rock into the water as he runs, leaping over logs, and trees, until he’s back at the small cabin he’s called home for fifteen years. Once he’s within sight, he slows down, tries to shake the fear out of his limbs, and takes another deep breath to calm down.

If Father sees him panicking, he’ll start asking questions and if Father knew what he could do, he’d be burned alive. He slowly approaches the house, walking in through the front door, wiping his hands on his shorts. Father is sitting and watching television on their rabbit-eared set, half dozing and half exposed. Vanitas blushes, ducking his head as he starts to walk toward the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Where have you been, Vanitas?” Father mutters as he straightens and fixes his clothes. “Run off all over the place again. I told you to stay home.”

“I just wanted to take a walk,” he says slowly. “I’m sorry, Father, I won’t disobey again.”

“No, you will not.” Father, Xehanort, rubs his bald head and sighs as he walks over to open the front door and look outside. “You weren’t in town again were you?”

“No, Father,” he says which is technically not a lie. He’d only gone to the park just outside of town.

“Good. I don’t need those people trying to get their claws into you,” Xehanort mutters. “Have you read your lessons and scripture today?”

“Yes, Father. This morning.”

“Recite.”

“Leviticus 19:31,  _ ‘Do not turn to mediums or seek out spiritists, for you will be defiled by them. I am the LORD your God.’ _ .”

“Good, and…?”

“Leviticus 20:37, _ ‘A man or woman who is a medium or spiritist among you must be put to death. You are to stone them; their blood will be on their own heads.’ _ .”

Xehanort sighs and nods. “Good. Good. Now, come, I have something for you. I believe you are old enough to have it now.” He holds the front door open and Vanitas jumps to follow Father outside to where there is a shed around the back of the house. The shed he’s never been allowed to go inside; the first time he ever tried to go inside, Father had dragged him into the house and burned his hands on the stove.

“I’m not allowed in there,” he says and stops in his tracks.

“You’re old enough now,” Xehanort replies as he approaches the shed and shoves a key into the padlock to open the door. “Come.” Xehanort disappears inside and Vanitas remains where he stands, looking up at the intimidating structure. “Vanitas, do not make me wait.”

“Sorry, Father.” He shoves his anxiety back down his gullet and forces his legs into motion. He approaches the old wooden building, painted an off white with a green roof, and pulls open the door. As a kid, he always had thoughts on what was inside, some ridiculous and some practical; he used to wonder if Father had a bunch of money in the shed or maybe this is where all of the canned goods were stored. Maybe his father was secretly a demon and there was a portal to the underworld in his shed. The thoughts of a child, vast and imaginative, but he never would have envisioned what he sees as he steps into the small, darkened room.

His eyes adjust and he’s met with rows upon rows of weapons, some older than others. Sickles, guns, knives, a sword, crossbows, longbows, arrows, a scythe…. He blinks a few times and tries to take everything in but it is horribly overwhelming. “Father, what is all of this?”

“This, my son, is our legacy.” Xehanort holds out his arms and looks proud as Vanitas takes the sight in. “I’ve told you before, boy, that you come from a long line of witch hunters. We’re some of the last but I’ve done my best to instill our beliefs into you so you may carry the torch. I’m getting old, and will need you to continue to fight the good fight, my son.”

“You want me to… be a witch hunter?” he whispers, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. The morning’s events fade as he realizes maybe he’s not such a failure after all. His entire life he’s tried to please his father and make him proud but no matter how many lines of scripture he could memorize or teachings he could parrot, he never felt his father saw him as worthy of their cause.

Until today.

“Oh, yes, I’ve been training you your entire life but I wasn’t sure you could handle such weaponry until you were older,” Xehanort says. “Wouldn’t want you cutting off your fingers and becoming a useless invalid, now would we?”

“No, Sir.”

“Smart boy.” Xehanort pulls down the crossbow and holds out the heavy instrument for him to take. “Hold this and feel the power, my son.”

Vanitas accepts the weapon, feeling too small to hold something so vast, but he lets it rest in his arms, inspecting its construction. “It’s heavy.”

“Yes, we’ll have to start a workout regiment for you. Cannot have a weak witch hunter. Witches are powerful and strong but so are we.” Xehanort tilts his chin up roughly. “ _ Never _ underestimate a witch. Understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. That is yours, you can learn with it before we move onto other weaponry.” Xehanort pats his head and for the first time in fifteen years, Vanitas feels warmth spread over his chest. Maybe this is what love feels like. “I will start teaching you tomorrow, for now, you will go back inside and start dinner. It’s late.”

“Yes, Father.” He hands the crossbow back gingerly and scurries out of the shed toward the house to start making dinner for them. A huge smile spreads across his face and throughout dinner and into the night, he cannot bring himself to stop.

* * *

There is a cat sitting on the front porch.

He’s managed to open the door without startling it or waking his father, tiptoed to the fridge to find some bologna, and offers it as a treat for the cat to come inside. He’s always wanted a pet but Father has never let him have one; but may now he will since he was trusted with a crossbow just last week. He’s spent everyday training and he’s learned a lot; he’s a good shot but he’s even better in hand to hand combat. He’s learned to use his hands and Xehanort quickly switched him to train with a blade.

Maybe now he can be trusted to have this stray.

The cat only hesitates a moment before it patters inside and accepts the bologna. He offers his hand and the cat sniffs before rubbing against his palm for affection. His heart warms and he pets the cat some more, quietly cooing and chatting at the little feline. Skinny and a bit matted but Vanitas knows he can help the cat bounce back.

“What should I name you?” he whispers while scratching the tabby’s chin. The cat looks up at him with beautiful amber eyes and purrs with content. “You’re all wet and gross. You need a bath. Did you get stuck out in the rain last night? It probably flooded the whole swamp but you’re here. You survived. I’ll call you Flood.”

Flood flops onto the floor and rolls onto their side and Vanitas pets the cat’s belly. Flood only purrs louder. He smiles and turns to fill a dish with water and provide some more bologna. Generally, he’s not allowed into town but maybe this can be an exception. He can run some of Father’s errands and maybe pick up some cat food. He imagines making Flood a little bed out of some old blankets and the cat keeping him warm at night.

They can become best friends.

“ _ What is that _ ?” Xehanort snarls as he appears in the hallway.

“Father-.”

“Get it out of my house!”

“Father, it’s just a stray-.”

“It’s a cat and I will not have a witch’s familiar in my house!” Xehanort stomps up to Flood and Flood’s fur poofs out as the cat hisses in defense.

Vanitas scoops him up and holds him in his arms. “Father, please, let me keep him. He needs a home-.”

“He needs a swift kick,” Xehanort replies. “Cats are witch’s familiars, boy, and they want nothing but trouble. Probably here to spy on us.”

Denial fills Vanitas’ core and he refuses to believe Flood is as evil as the witches. He’s just a cat. “Please, can I keep him?”

Xehanort’s face goes from displeased to angry as he takes two steps forward, grabs Flood out of his arms, and with a sickening snap, the cat’s neck is broken and he tosses the corpse outside. Vanitas’ eyes widen and fill with tears as he watches Flood’s body flop on the ground. Panic makes his heart race and his palms sweat but he has to keep it together. He cannot cry in front of his father or show weakness.

Xehanort smacks him hard across the mouth regardless. The slap makes his ears ring and blood trickle down from his nose but he doesn’t cry. “If you ever bring another cat into this home again, I will burn it alive and make you eat it. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” he replies, voice stiff.

“Now, get out of my sigh. I don’t want to see you again until dinner.”

“Yes, Sir.” Vanitas steps out of the house, hearing the door slam behind him, as he slowly approaches Flood on the ground. He glances back over his shoulder to see if Xehanort is near the window but there is no sign of his father so he scoops the cat up in his arms and starts to march him out of sight. He walks slowly, the tears he’d been holding back finally unleashing.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Flood while he cries, squeezing and willing air back into the cat’s lungs. “I’m sorry, I should have left you outside. I’m so sorry.”

Warmth flows down from his chest and into his arms, and as he takes the cat on his funeral march, Vanitas startles when he feels Flood move. He freezes and glances down to see Flood blinking and looking up at him curiously. The cat makes a soft sound and scrambles up onto his shoulders to drape around him like a scarf. Vanitas sobs in relief, petting Flood’s ears, and Flood nuzzles him in return, running his rough tongue over his cheek.

“Okay, you’ll have to be outside only because Father won’t let me keep you inside.” Vanitas walks along with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his bare feet cold with mud. “But I can bring you food and we’ll find a safe place for you, Flood.”

Vanitas comes to the main pathway out of the swamp and debates on going to town. He’s muddy, unwashed, and barefoot in a t-shirt and sleeping shorts but Flood needs food to survive on his own outside. He has a few dollars in his pockets he’s managed to hoard; he’d always meant to spend them on some cards at the game store in town but this is more important.

Father told him not to come back until dinner so he has the entire day to walk into town, buy cat food, and walk back.

Decision made, Vanitas shoves his shoulders back and starts back toward town. His mind whirls with thoughts of people staring at him and maybe finding an excuse to put him in jail like his father always warns about. He thinks back to the boy he killed with a rock; none of the kids must have told anyone anything because no one had come bearing pitchforks and fire to smoke him out. Maybe he’d found a stroke of luck this one time. Maybe the kids were too afraid to say anything. Maybe they thought he was a witch.

Sometimes, Vanitas wonders if he is the exact thing his father talks about hunting. Would his father hunt him down and kill him? His own son?

_ Yes _ , whispers the immediate answer.

* * *

The general store is full of older couples and a few kids when he walks in. The cashiers glance his way, look him over, and look at him with disdain. Flood is still draped over his shoulders like a flamboyant scarf and he walks into the store with as much confidence as he can in muddy clothes and bare feet. No one stops him as he looks up at the signs for the aisles while he scans for the pet food aisle. He finds his way to aisle 13, eyes scanning rows of canned food, and he grabs a few and a bag of dry food to match, letting Flood examine them for approval.

“Sir.”

Vanitas turns to the left and sees an older man with graying hair and a tucked-in dress shirt with a tie and jeans. The cowboy boots, though, they really set off the look. “Yeah?” he asks slowly.

“I’m sorry but we’ll have to ask you to leave. You cannot bring animals in here and we require shoes for us to service you.”

Vanitas looks the man up and down and glances at his dirtied feet. “My cat needs food.”

“I understand that Sir, but it is a store requirement.”

Vanitas shifts his eyes back to the shelf full of cat food and then to where there is a back door exit just down the aisle. He nods and then turns to start running down the aisle. The man cries out and starts after him but he’s faster. Flood leaps from his shoulders and runs alongside him and Vanitas wrenches his shoulder into the door, pushing it open as hard as he can with the cat food in his arms. An alarm sounds but Flood is already darting through the backlot to the grassy hill leading up into trees so Vanitas follows. His feet slip and he drops two of the cans of food but manages to climb the incline with the bag and one of the cans.

He can hear shouts and people coming after him but he knows these woods better than most people. He flies through them without tripping or stumbling, knowing when to leap over logs and make twists and turns until he’s certain he’s lost his pursuers. Once he finally comes to a stop, he drops the food and places his hands on his knees to draw in ragged breaths while his heart races. Flood trots up to him, rubbing and winding around his ankles.

“Sorry,” he pants, patting his head. “I lost two of the foods but I’ve got the rest. C’mon.” Gathering up the dropped goods, they start back toward the swamp so he can find a place for Flood to hopefully live. He considers keeping Flood under his house but maybe he can keep Flood nearby until he can sneak him back to the house. Father always goes into town on Fridays so he can always do so then.

Flood follows him but when they come to close to the house, Flood’s fur sticks straight out, and the cat’s back arches as he spits and hisses. Vanitas pauses and looks down at him. “You don’t have to go back inside-.”

“Vanitas,” comes the cold and disappointed voice of his father. The way his name is uttered leaves him cold all of the way to his bones and he looks up to see his father is holding the crossbow.

“Father-.”

“Why is that cat  _ alive _ ?” he growls. “I snapped its neck and here you are, consorting with it all over again.”

He hadn’t heard Xehanort leave the house or seen him. They were close enough he should have been able to see his father leave but Xehanort must have already been outside. They shouldn’t have stepped so close.

“I don’t know,” he replies, deciding to play the fool. “It just woke up-.”

“That isn’t possible,” Xehanort whispers. He points his crossbow at Flood and Vanitas feels his heart surge.

“NO!” he screams but he’s too late and Flood is struck through. The cat falls over dead and Vanitas screams in agony as for the second time he’s had to watch his new friend die. He drops the cat food onto the ground and falls to his knees, slowly picking up Flood’s broken body and cradling him in his arms. “ _ Why _ ?”

Xehanort stares at him, his face twisted in rage. “Show me, Vanitas.”

“Show you  _ what _ ?”

“You brought that cat back to life, didn’t you?”

He sobs and presses his forehead to Flood’s furred side, uncaring if blood ends up on his face or forehead. “I  _ hate _ you,” he cries. “I hate you for this!” He slowly sets Flood on his lap and wonders if the power he’s kept a secret for so long will work since the cat has an arrow sticking through him. He yanks the bolt free and throws it to the side.

Vanitas pets Flood’s fur and lets his tears fall onto the cat even though he knows he’s not allowed to cry, the emotions are too strong. The only sounds in the swamp are the cicadas screaming and his own tears and sobs. He only wanted a friend. Just one. He pets Flood and feels the warm spread out of his fingertips and through the cat’s fur. His shoulder slump over his fallen pet until he feels the ribcage move up and down. Flood makes a pained sound but slowly starts to twist and sit upright, looking up with those amber eyes.

“Impossible,” Xehanort whispers while Vanitas wraps his arms around Flood protectively.

“Flood,” he whispers. “Run away. Run away before he does it again.”

Flood purrs but uses Vanitas’ shoulder to leap over his back and disappear into the swamp while he remains on his knees, feeling exhausted and sad. “Are you going to kill me, Father?” he asks, voice as dead as he feels inside.

“You aren’t my son,” Xehanort replies, voice as cold as the grave. “My son is no witch.”

He looks up at Xehanort and waits for him to put a crossbow bolt right between his eyes but it doesn’t happen. Xehanort turns and walks away, heading inside the house, and letting the door swing open and slam shut. Vanitas remains in the mud and muck, staring at his hands in disbelief. He can bring the dead back to life and now his father knows. His father knows what he is, and unlike Flood, he can’t run away.

He remains outside until night is almost over the swamp and Vanitas forces himself to stand and drag his body into the house. Xehanort is nowhere to be seen so he goes to his small bedroom and crawls into the bed, uncaring of his state of undress. Exhaustion settles across his body and he allows sleep to pull him down.

* * *

Skittering dreams of mice coming to life in mouse traps, only to die again, chase Vanitas awake with a gasp. His eyes fly open and expects to see the ceiling of his small bedroom except his eyes see the trees of the swamp. His arms ache and for a moment he doesn’t understand until he attempts to move his body and his movements are stopped by bonds.

“Father?” he calls, voice bleary with sleep.

“I told you, you are not my son.” Xehanort appears from the darkness like a dark messiah. He wears long white robes and is carrying a bible.

“What is going on?” Vanitas struggles through the ropes but they hold him taut. He’s tied to the house, the porch railings, and he can’t move. He remembers vaguely waking in the middle of the night to drink a glass of milk. Xehanort had been awake but had said nothing to him. He’d gone to the bathroom, come back, take his milk, and went back to bed.

“I must rid the world of ilk like you,” Xehanort replies, voice heavy with the weight of the burden he carries. “I clothed you, bathed you, reared you, taught you the right way to live, but yet, I must now do my gravest deed yet, Vanitas.”

“Father-.” Vanitas struggles against the bonds and turns angry eyes to the man he’s called father his entire life. “Let me go!” he screams but Xehanort shakes his head.

“Do you have any final confessions you would like to make, boy? Any last rites?”

Vanitas wriggles his wrists but the bonds are tight, so tight he should have woken up while Xehanort had tied him up. “You drugged me,” he whispers.

“It was the only way.” Xehanort picks up a homemade torch and lights a match, letting the end catch with licking flame. “You know how we must burn the wicked, Vanitas.”

Panic settles into his bones for a moment as he realizes his father is going to burn him alive like the women during the Salem witch trials. “Father, please,” he begs, looking up at the sky. “Let me go!”

“I will let you go, I will let you go to where you belong. Your spirit will travel to the pits of Hell and you will feel the flames for all eternity, as all witches deserve.” Xehanort steps close and lets the flames lick the wood of the house. “I am sorry, Vanitas, but I cannot have my son be the exact thing I stand against.”

Vanitas screams, pulling until his body is too tired to pull and he can feel the flames coming closer. The house catches quickly and his eyes frantically search for any salvation. The smoke curls in through his nose and burns his lungs. When he feels the flames start their path on him, he lets out an agonized scream, and a flash of amber greets his eyes in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a playlist, you can listen here: [§ † Ì G M Ä † Ä](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1JeK1nTEF4Rxvl2pSMZpjq?si=BHIuY0DCSFidNAcdGM1vEA)

“That’ll be three hundred dollars. Upfront.” 

Isa doesn’t look up from where he can hear Axel making a transaction as he feels a tickle at the base of his spine. The chill runs down like a sharp fingernail over each of his vertebrae and he winces at the feeling. Isa spins around to turn his gaze to the kitchen window. There is a black crow sitting just opposite the glass; it tapes once, twice, three times and then flies away. 

The chill remains and he tries to focus on the energy but it slips through his fingers like sand. The spirit’s grip isn’t strong enough to hold onto anything but he can feel it scrambling to reach something in the world of the living. 

“Is’, there’s a customer- are you okay?” Axel asks and he hurries over to place his hands on Isa’s bicep. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine,” he whispers. The spirit’s tendrils trace over his cheek and he wants to reach out to pull the spirit through but he knows better. “I can feel something. There’s a faint presence here.” 

“Well, could be this crying lady out front. She wants to talk to her dead husband,” Axel says. 

Isa pinches his nose and shakes the feeling away; he has a job to do and he can always return to this spot to see if the spirit is lingering. Maybe he can help it then. Whatever it is, Isa fears it is an old spirit and without enough grip on reality, he won’t be able to assist. “Perhaps,” he agrees and follows Axel from the back of the house to the front room which he’s used for all of his readings. 

The room is circular, with a round table in the middle, two chairs on either end and heavy room darkening curtains on every window. No mirrors or reflective objects and certainly no crystal ball. Most mediums are a gimmick, especially in the tri-county area but the reason he charges so much money per hour isn’t that he’s a sham or trying to make a quick buck. No, he charges so much because he is steeped in the spirit world and is the only real medium in the area. 

Every reading is different. 

Every reading is tolling. 

Isa sinks into his chair opposite the middle-aged woman and glances over her person to drink in what she’s carried to the table. The physical baggage being a plain button up shirt and khakis with gold hoops in her ears. Hair cut to her shoulders with too serious bangs while age and grief racks havoc on her face. Dark circles beneath brown eyes and long lashes and wrinkles and lines showing in her face. She seems as though she hasn’t slept in weeks. The emotional baggage he can feel palpating the room; a woman who loved and lost her husband, he’s seen many of those but this one seems different. 

A different kind of tired. 

The kind of tired where they’re at the end of their rope and are ready to move into the next life kind of tired. Maybe she’s wondering if he’s waiting for her. Isa places his hands on the table and keeps his face impassive as he always does during readings. “Did you bring something of his?” 

“Henry,” she whispers while she pulls from her purse a golden ring and lies it on the table between them. “That was his wedding band.” 

Isa feels his fingers twitch and there is a hesitation in his bones; each time is different but he reaches across the table and places his hands on the ring. Immediately, he feels a sense of anger and pain which shocks his entire system. He gasps and pulls his hand back, dropping his eyes down to the ring and then back up at her. 

A slow smirk turns her lips up. “So, you  _ are _ the real deal,” she whispers. “I heard rumors that you really could feel the dead but I wasn’t sure. I’ve been… to so many different mediums. They’re all garbage.” 

Isa drops his eyes back to the ring and picks it up, focusing on the object and the emotions it carries. He senses, at first, anger but the anger dissipates away to pain and suffering. The ring heats up in his hands and he feels it burn into his palm but he doesn’t scream or cry out. The spirit world drips like ink down his face and covers his vision until he can only see a black empty room. He holds the ring in one hand and he slowly stands up in the black void until the pain and anger punch him in the chest. 

He gasps, focusing harder on the energy until the image of the man finally shimmers and forms in front of him. The man is burned to a crisp and the sight is as alarming as it is affirming. “What do you wish to ask him?” he asks and even though he cannot hear his own voice, he can still hear hers on the other side. 

“Just one thing,” she replies, her disembodied voice traveling to him between the veil. 

“And what is that?” 

“How does he like rotting in Hell?” 

The question forms like vitriol and venom and he parrots the words back to the spirit who only screams in pain. The man lurches forward and wraps his hands around Isa’s throat, squeezing, and screaming in his face. Ash spits from the burnt skeleton’s mouth and spews across his eyes. Isa feels his body go rigid and then start to shake. 

“Isa!” 

Axel. 

The ring is torn from his hand and he slams back into the present, his heart racing. His throat burns and he coughs out curling smoke from his lungs. His eyes shoot up to the woman who no longer looks amused but terrified. “You killed your husband,” he gasps, voice wrecked from the spirit’s grasp. “Didn’t you?” 

She snatches the ring back up and Isa realizes her emotional baggage hadn’t been what he’d first imagined at all. She wasn’t a woman who had loved and lost her husband, her exhaustion stems from unknowing if the man she hated was still suffering. She wanted him to suffer in death the way he had made her suffer in life. 

“What,  _ what _ ?” Axel shrieks, looking paranoid and worried but Isa shoves Axel off. 

“I just wanted to know if he was still suffering as he should be,” she says, voice as cold as her icy heart. “He hurt me for so long and I’d had enough. He deserves to  _ rot _ .” 

Isa takes a deep breath through his nose and he slowly rises from his seat, still shaking in the knees. “You should leave,” he says. “Asking me to deal with a hostile spirit without proper preparation will cost you another hour of my time.” 

“Fine,” she says coolly. “It’s nothing compared to what you have given me. I doubt you’ll say anything, considering your profession, I’m sure, isn’t being reported to the IRS.” 

Isa points to the front hallway as he starts back toward the kitchen. “Walk her out, Axel.” 

“Yeah, sure Is’.” 

Isa shoves back toward the kitchen and eases down onto the chair. When he’s finished dealing with a darker spirit, he always feels naked and raw. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to ground his mind and body in the moment. The desperate spirit from earlier reaches out to him again, clawing firmly at his back. A new sigh slips out of him, one of exasperation. Sometimes, he wishes the spirit world would leave him alone for more than a few seconds. 

He stands and starts to follow the cold feeling to the backdoor and out to the backyard. The feeling grows stronger and he follows it toward the edge of the small wooded area behind their house. There is a creek that runs away from the yard and a grouping of trees that have been there longer than the house. The grass is a dull brown from lack of rain in the winter months and the spirit’s rattling grows louder until he finally kneels at the base of a pine tree. 

At the base of the tree is a carving he’d never noticed before coming close. A small triangle slashed into the tree, pointed upward to the sky. He tilts his head to the side and pats the frozen, cold earth. The feeling of desperation hits him like a truck and he gasps out loud. The lungful of air comes out in a white puff. He won’t be able to dig the ground without tools and maybe not even then since it is frozen solid until it thaws.

“I’ll come back for you,” Isa promises. “I swear it.” 

Rising to his feet, he turns to walk away and there is a flash of a vision in front of his eyes. He’s standing in the black void of limbo and he meets pained golden eyes.  _ Please _ , comes a desperate whisper.  _ Help me.  _

“Help you?” he asks out loud. 

_ Come back.  _

_ Help me come back.  _

* * *

  
  


Cutting class had never been on his list of Things to Do Senior Year but there is always a first time for everything. His parents go to work at eight and he has to be at school at eight, too, so the easiest thing is to wait for the bus while his mother is driving away and then duck back to the house to call the school, pretend to be his mother, and excuse him for the day. He has perfect attendance otherwise and no one will be the wiser. 

Sora rocks on his heels at the bus stop and watches his mother drive away - his father has been away on a business trip - and he raises his hand in a quick wave. She waves in return and once she’s turned down the street, Sora runs back to the house and lets himself back inside. She always gets home after he is off of school so she won’t even know. He calls the school’s attendance line and moves his voice into a higher pitch. 

Fooling their secretary is a lot easier than he first imagined. She buys his story of a sick Sora and he’s just not well enough to come to school today and, yes, of course, she’ll write him a note. The house is empty and he can’t help but grin ear to ear that his plan had worked out so well. He sits on the kitchen counter and pulls out his phone to text the whole reason he even made this plan. 

_ Sora: I cut class and am home alone you should come over :( _

_ ♥: You shouldn’t have cut class _

_ Sora: Please come over? Before you have to go to work  _

_ ♥: Hm  _ _   
_ _ ♥: I suppose I can stop by _

_ Sora: I’ll be ready for you ♥ _

Sora giggles as he imagines Yozora coming over to see him at his house. They’ve been dating online for a while but haven’t had a real chance to hook up until today. He’s been too busy with school and Yozora works at the gym most of the week and weekend as a personal trainer. He dashes upstairs to change out of his approved school uniform and changes into a large white shirt that delicately slips off of one shoulder and nothing else to wait on Yozora to show up. 

The doorbell rings faster than he anticipated and Sora rushes down the hall for the door, only pausing to collect his excitement once before answering. Yozora stands on the other side, dressed in sweats, hands in his pockets, looking as stiff and in charge as ever. He drinks in every muscle and the way Yozora’s eyes flick him over from toe to eyes. 

“Hi,” Sora says and steps aside so Yozora can come into the house. “You look good.” 

“You look better,” Yozora replies and the deep voice rolls over Sora’s body like an ocean wave. 

“Thanks.” The door shuts and Yozora has him up against it before he can think, their mouths pressed together with a pang of desperate hunger. Sora gasps and melts in Yozora’s hands while they makeout against the door. Yozora’s fingers slip beneath the hem of the shirt and lift over his bare thigh, trailing up to his stomach and down his pelvis until Sora shivers. 

“May I?” Yozora asks and the question is almost as agonizing as the lingering touches. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

Permission granted, Yozora’s fingers glide down his mons and over to his clit to flick and rub in firm circles. Sora moans, letting his head fall back against the door, while Zora’s lips trail over his neck and back to his lips. “Upstairs, let’s go upstairs,” Sora pants. 

Zora nods and he picks Sora up to carry him up the stairs where Sora guides him to his bedroom. Zora drops him on the bed and Sora laughs when the mattress bounces him. He pushes his shirt up to show off his whole body, letting it rest beneath his chin and he sees Zora’s pupils dilate and make his eyes dark. Zora is out of breath and looks paler than he did when they started but he doesn’t question it, spreading his legs to show off. 

“Fuck,” Zora whispers and he starts to push his sweatpants down before crawling on top of him to make out again. 

Sora’s legs and arms wrap around him and he follows Zora’s move. They kiss with deep desperation and Sora feels a hunger consume him. He growls and pants, pussy wet and wanting Zora’s dick but the more he kisses, the more Zora starts to fight. 

“Sora,” Yozora gasps but Sora pulls him back for another kiss and prolonged touch. “Sora-.” 

The room’s temperature drops until he can see Zora’s breath and Sora notes he’s so pale and thin. Sora sits up, confused, pushing Zora back. The room starts to frost over and Yozora gasps as his body sinks back onto the floor, slumping until he’s pressed against Sora’s dresser. 

“Zora!” Sora yells, going over to touch him but he’s ice cold. There is a shimmer in the air, a blue light, which travels over to where Sora rests on the bed. It floats over until it disappears in his chest and the hunger fades. The room returns to the correct temperature but Yozora doesn’t move. 

Tears flood Sora’s eyes and he crawls over to shake Zora but he flops over unmoving. “Zora, Zora, what’s wrong, stop fucking around. Wake up!” 

He rolls Yozora over and sobs when he notes Zora’s eyes are snowblind and he doesn’t wake again. 

* * *

_ Help me _

Isa’s eyes snap open and he angrily rolls over to glare at his bedroom window. Middle of the night and the unnamed spirit hasn’t stopped bothering him. He sits up and stumbles out of bed to throw on boots and a winter coat. There is a shovel leaning against the shed behind the house so he storms out to collect it and start to work. The ground is frozen but Isa shoves the shovel into the ground over and over until he feels it start to give, digging down and down. 

The wood causes blisters on his palms and his breath comes out in cold puffs of white. The spirit lingers and clings to his coattails, whispering small pleas to help them return. “I hear you,” Isa growls and throws more dirt over his shoulder. The moon is full and shines down on him with bright light, guiding his tired eyes. The witching hour is near, when the veil is at its thinnest, and he needs to hurry so he can try to help the spirit pass on. 

“Isa, what the fuck are you doing?” comes Axel’s confused, sleepy voice. 

Isa startles, having not heard Axel come upon him. “What does it look like?” he quips back, lack of sleep making him irritable. He throws some more dirt over his shoulder and his eyes land on something darker than the rest of the earth around him. Kneeling, he shoves the loose soil aside until his fingers slowly lift up a bone. He almost drops the bones back onto the ground but he starts to stack them just outside of the grave made for this unknown body. 

Tibia, fibula, and femurs. 

“Is that…. Oh God,” Axel says and Isa can hear him retch right after. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, searching for more bones. “Where is the rest of you?” 

_ Not here _ , comes the voice and it is stronger now as if finding the bones helped the soul come back.  _ Buried around this town. You must find all of me.  _

“Who are you?” Isa asks. 

_ You will know in time. Look for the rest of me. Father buried me all around.  _

“I don’t have time to find the rest of you,” Isa snarls. He gasps when he feels the spirit wrap around his neck like an icy cold hand. 

_ Find me. Bring me home. Fire. Earth. Water. Air. Spirit. Find me, witch.  _

The grip loosens and he hauls himself out of the grave, eyes moving down to where the sign for fire is carved into the tree. Whoever had buried this body had buried them and bound their spirit by the elements. “Whoever wanted this person dead, didn’t want them to move onto the next life,” he tells Axel while he gathers up the bones. 

“Why?” Axel asks, following Isa back to the house. “You’re not seriously going to look for this random body, Isa-.” 

“I  _ have _ to, Axel!” Isa shouts, turning back to him, eyes shining in the dark with the powers he keeps usually buried inside. “He said he was buried around the town. Fire, water, earth, air, spirit. I don’t know why it was bound here but clearly, the spirit wants to move on. It is my obligation to help.” 

Axel pinches his nose. “Where do we even  _ look _ ?” 

_ Go to the swamp _ , comes the quiet voice.  _ Take the main path to the ruins of an old house. Check there next.  _

Isa sighs and checks the time. It’s almost the witching hour. “Get your car,” he says, voice grim. “We’re going to need another shovel.” 

Axel grunts but storms outside to do as he’s told. Isa sets the bones on the table on top of an old towel and notes their black and charred. “Someone really didn’t like you,” he remarks. 

_ No.  _

“What is your name?”

_ Find me and I will tell you.  _

“Tell me now or stay in this state forever. I’ll rebury and bind you,” Isa spits back. “I am a witch, I know how.” 

The spirit is quiet for a moment and then it mutters a reluctant reply.  _ Vanitas.  _

“Vanitas,” Isa murmurs. He’s never heard the name before but he makes a note to start looking once Axel prepares the car. He returns for the first shovel and sits in Axel’s car, opening his phone to start navigation and an internet search. 

“Where are we even going?” Axel asks. 

“There is a swamp south of here,” Isa replies. “Go there.” 

“Fuck.” 

_ V A N I T A S _

The first articles to pop up are on the art movement but he adds the town’s name and sees an article archived from a 1990 newspaper. He pulls it open to look it over, brows pulling together. 

_ BOY DIES IN A TRAGIC FIRE, ACCIDENT OR FOUL PLAY?  _

JUNE 12, 1990

On June 1, 1990, a fire struck out in the home of Xehanort Caelum (64), destroying his home, and killing his only son, Vanitas Caelum (15), as well. Authorities are looking into possible foul play but as of now, the fire is being ruled as an accident. 

Isa tilts his head as there isn’t any other information. No interviews, no quotes from witnesses, nothing at all. “That’s all?” he says. 

“What?” Axel asks. 

“There was a boy named Vanitas who lived in the town in the ’90s. He was killed in a fire… I think that is who is trying to move on. There isn’t much about it, just one bullshit article, and I don’t know if the fire was ever ruled arson or an accident.” Isa sighs and lets his head drop back onto the window. 

“I mean, if the spirit is bound here, sounds like…” 

“Murder,” Isa concludes, voice grim. “Yeah. Sounds like murder.” 

“So, we’re going to find a murder victim.” 

“I have to, Axel,” he reiterates. 

“Right. Okay. Hold onto your butt.” Axel speeds up and they fly faster south to where the swamp lies outside of town. In the ’90s, their little town had been barely anything but it grew in thirty years and is now more of a small city than a little town. The swamp is mostly fenced off but Axel has always been good at breaking and entering. 

They park off the road and Axel digs around in the back of the Jeep for some pliers to cut the fence. The swamp is cold and quiet with the winter months, and Isa feels a sense of dread as Axel cuts the fencing. The main path is dark and quiet but Axel uses his phone to light the way. They start back, walking in silence, while Isa lets Vanitas’ spirit guide him. 

The spirit pulls and darts ahead, leading them to the ruins of the old house. In thirty years, even nature had not reclaimed the black ashy ruins. The ground around the area, in a black circle, remains untouched and unchanged. 

“Uh…” Axel says. “Is that normal?” 

“No,” Isa replies. “Stay here. Keep an eye out.” 

“Isa-.” 

“Axel, just do as I say!” He doesn’t mean to shout but he can feel the danger here. A witch’s spirit is tangled up in the darkness of this place, has turned to anger and hate, leaving the land spoiled and ruined. He steps forward, feeling Vanitas pull and tug until he comes to an old bedroom. There is a burnt bed resting against a piece of the house’s wall. He feels the foundation creek beneath his feet and he knows he has to walk carefully or the entire thing may crumble away. 

There is a desk, covered in soot, and ash next to the bed, and his fingers dust over the darkened wood. Not everything burned to nothing before the fire had been put out. The touch shoots pain into his chest and tears spring into his eyes as he can feel Vanitas’ agony. The bed gives off such negative energy, he is too afraid to touch what remains. His fingers brush over a drawer and he pulls, having to yank it open. Inside are remnants of yellowed paper and more ash but they seem untouched. 

_ Mine _ , comes Vanitas’ voice, sadder now being back at the site of his death.  _ My body is behind the house. Look for the symbols.  _

Isa steps away from the desk and follows Vanitas’ prompting. He steps through the house and is careful to avoid rubble, ducking under collapsed beams, twisting and turning until he’s able to touch the scorched ground. Vanitas leads him further, past a shed which is still standing, untouched by the fire. His eyes linger on it for a moment, one of its walls is collapsed but otherwise, it seems to be standing, but he can’t linger long. 

He walks further until there is a large tree, blackened and twisted. Isa looks up at the angry, evil thing, before slowly kneeling and seeing carved at the base of the tree, a circle.  _ Spirit _ . 

Isa gulps and starts to dig. He digs until his fingers bleed, and his blisters pop and make his palms scream. He throws the shovel aside, digging through the dirt with his fingers until his hands brush over smooth bone. Trembling fingers wrap around a smooth, domed surface until he slowly pulls free a human skull. Tears slip down his cheeks and he holds Vanitas’ skull in his hands, staring at the empty sockets. 

“Why did he do this to you? Your own father?” 

_ Because of what I was. What I  _ **_am_ ** _.  _

“And what are you?” 

There is a dark chuckle.  _ I’m just like you, Isa.  _

Isa looks up and he sees a boy’s shadow kneeling over the grave, looking down at him. The spirit’s shade watches him and there is a flash of white in his face. A disturbing smile.  _ Come, witch, find the rest of me. I’m almost free.  _

Isa clutches the bones harder in his grasp and feels the anger and rage Vanitas permeates, letting it roll over his skin, and sink into his own body. He takes on the spirit’s rage and it makes his stomach ache and heart race. Three more places to go. Soon, Vanitas can be free. 

Isa shuts his eyes before looking up into the shade’s unnerving smile. “Where next?” 


	3. Chapter 3

_ He may never wake again. He’s basically a vegetable.  _

The words echo in Sora’s mind as he sits, waiting at a train station, holding onto his bags for the unknown. His parents had returned home to him sobbing and sitting with Zora, unsure of what to do. He’d been breathing but he’d never come back to himself. His parents had called an ambulance and they’d taken Yozora away. His mother then told him about their family; they came from a line of witches and it had skipped quite a few generations until now. 

He’d been sent off to train with other witches, so he could learn to harness and mask his powers. Now, he was sitting in a train station waiting for someone to find him. Fear and anxiety grip his heart as he remembers going to visit Yozora on his last day at home. He’d broken down and cried because how could he have done something so awful? Yozora had no family and was just  _ alone _ in the hospital, in a coma, and unresponsive. He wonders how long Yozora will sit there or if some nurse will come along and pull the plug. He sniffs and wipes his nose, wishing life wasn’t so unfair, when black boots come into his vision. 

“Excuse me, are you Sora?” 

Sora blinks some tears out of his eyes and slowly trails his eyes upward, over black combat boots, dark jeans to match, and a white t-shirt, visible beneath a black coat. Then, he’s diving into a lake of jade, framed by snow white lashes. His heart slams in his chest as he takes in his new comer’s features; he looks like Yozora but his hair is silver and long, pulled back into a ponytail. Otherwise, they are eerily similar. 

“Yes,” he squeaks, wiping his eyes again. “I’m Sora.” 

“Hi, I’m Riku. I’m here to take you back to where you’ll be staying while you train.” 

“Oh, right. Okay.” Sora picks up his suitcase and follows Riku out to a black car. The guy really likes black. Even the windows are tinted pitch black. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Riku asks as he takes Sora’s suitcase to put in the trunk. 

“The school… It’s a school, right? Like in Harry Potter?” 

Riku laughs, the sound like silver bells, and he walks around to open the passenger’s side door for Sora. “It’s nothing like Harry Potter,” he replies. “It’s not really a school, either. It’s… a community.” 

“Oh…” Sora frowns but doesn’t want to pry further. Maybe his mother had sent him to live with a cult. He slides into the leather interior and Riku hurries around to his side and the car purrs as they move forward away from the train station and off into the countryside. 

“I’m sure you have a ton of questions,” Riku says. “You can ask some if you want.” 

“Do you have powers?” Sora asks, studying Riku’s car and then Riku’s sharp profile. The straight nose and cheekbones so sharp, Sora wonders if his fingers would bleed upon contact. 

“Yes,” Riku whispers. 

“What can you do?” 

He looks over at Sora and his face is grim before he turns his eyes back to the road again. “My powers are… complicated.” 

“I think I killed my boyfriend with mine so I’m not sure how much more complicated you could get,” Sora replies, voice flat. 

Riku swallows and Sora can see his adam’s apple bob. “I am a dream witch,” he says slowly. “I can do all types of things in my dreams.” 

Sora snorts. “That’s it?” 

“It’s not a power that should be scoffed at!” Riku snaps. “I can create things from my dreams. I can enter the dreams of others and change them. I can manipulate nightmares and create them from nothing. Unchecked, I could drive someone insane. I can force you to dream, just like that.” Riku snaps his fingers. “I can make you sleep and never wake up. It is not the power I want but it is the power I am trying to control. Some of the things I make from my dreams… are fine and they do wonders, like this car, but other things are accidental and can be detrimental. I’m the reason we can no longer have training in town… I… I’ve said too much.” Riku’s voice rises with his emotion and then he goes completely silent. 

Sora swallows a lump in his throat as he tries to wrap his mind around such immense power. “I’m sorry,” Sora whispers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t, it’s my fault. I upset myself.” 

He takes another look at the car and notes that all of the dials and screens are too bright and extremely colorful, like the neon streets of Shibuya. The interior is perfect, too perfect, and there isn’t a logo on the steering wheel. Just a strange silver symbol. “You dreamt this car?” Sora whispers. 

“Yes,” Riku says, voice stiff and spine rigid. 

He points to the symbol. “What’s that mean?” 

“It’s the symbol for those who have the Dream Eater power.” 

“How does it run if it’s a dream?” Sora looks all around again, eyes wide, as he tries to imagine Riku dreaming the car to life. How can someone just make their dreams come true? 

“I have no idea,” Riku whispers in honesty. “I don’t know how it works, I just know it does.” 

“That’s really cool,” Sora compliments. “I mean, your power sounds scary but at least it doesn’t kill people-.” 

“It does,” Riku snaps. “I don’t want to talk about my powers anymore. Ask me something else.” 

Sora’s eyes widen but he can tell Riku has reached his personal limit. He tries to swim around for another question but he’s not sure what could possibly be more interesting than the current subject. They sit in silence for a while as Riku pulls them onto the highway and they start driving away from civilization. At one point, Sora is sure he fell asleep because when his eyes open again, they’re no longer on the freeway and are surrounded by pine trees on either side of the road, with snow falling. 

“How much further?” Sora asks and stretches his legs out, trying to crack his stiff spine. 

“A while,” Riku replies. “Maybe another hour. There’s no traffic.” 

“Jeeze, where is this place?” 

“I told you, we can no longer hold practice in town or near cities.” 

“Right.” Sora huffs and glances at the car’s stereo. “Does it play music?”

“Hm? No- well, yes, but only one station.” Riku blushes deeply. “It’s not a good one either but I can’t fix it. I’d have to dream of an entirely new car.” 

“Oh,” Sora says, shoulders slumping. “So, uh, who is gonna teach me?” 

“We have a few masters,” Riku replies. “Aqua, Terra, and Master Eraqus. Aqua and Terra are sort of like… I guess the closest thing would be a teaching assistant and Master Eraqus is a master of witchcraft. He knows a lot and will be teaching you how to control your powers. There is also Master Merlin and Master Yen Sid. They aren’t always around but they can teach you, too.”

“Merlin? Like the wizard?” Sora asks. “He’s  _ real _ ?” 

Riku chuckles. “You’d be surprised by what is real and what isn’t from pop culture, Sora.” 

“Riku, how old are you?” 

“Me? I’m twenty.” 

“Oh. You seem older.” 

Riku snorts. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.” 

“It’s neither. I just thought you were older than that. I’m eighteen,” Sora clarifies. 

“Funny, I thought you were younger.” 

Sora rolls his eyes. “I get that a lot. Will my parents be able to call me all the way out here?” 

“No,” Riku replies. “We’re pretty cut off from the outside world but it’s for our safety as much as it is for theirs.” 

Tears fill Sora’s eyes again as he tries to remember the last thing he said to his mom. “Safety?” 

Riku nods. “They’re not very common anymore but there are still witch hunters out in the world. We have to be careful with who we associate. They’re craftier than ever.” 

Sora nods, even though he doesn’t understand, and his stomach growls. “Sorry, just hungry.” He slumps in his seat, wrapping his arms around his middle to protect himself and maybe staunch the sound. 

“It’s okay, there’s a small town before we get to where we live. We can stop and get you something to eat.” 

“Okay. What’s it called? The  _ community _ ?” 

Riku snorts. “We don’t really have an official name. The town nearby is called Hollow Bastion so we usually just call it that.” He shrugs and they take a sharp turn before finally slowing down and Sora sees a sign for the aforementioned. 

“Is there a McDonald’s?” he asks, licking his lips in hopes of chicken nuggets. 

“There’s a gas station but not a McDonald’s. There will be food at home if you want to wait,” Riku offers. “Roxas is a good cook.” 

“Roxas?” 

“Yeah, he’s a witch. He likes to cook.”They drive through an extremely small town and then they’re back on the other side, heading up a hill until Riku makes another right and they drive down into a valley. There is a sign on the right hand side stating there is a dead end which makes Sora’s eyes widen. 

True to the sign, at the end of the road is just a wall of rock. 

“Uh, Riku?” Sora asks but Riku only speeds up and there is a mad grin on his face. Sora screams as they strike the wall at full speed but nothing happens. He slowly opens his eyes and unclenches his body as he realizes they passed through the wall like tissue paper. On the other side is a large black, iron gate, which opens as they approach and further beyond is an even larger house. 

No, castle?

No, house? 

Sora can’t tell. 

“What- what the  _ fuck _ ?” Sora screeches, looking back over his shoulder but there is no wall of rock. He can, however, see a shimmer in the atmosphere, making the world beyond where they came in shimmer and distort like looking through saran wrap. 

“It’s a protection spell,” Riku replies. “It cloaks our location from unwanted eyes and keeps the town safe from any magical accidents.” Riku drives them up a long driveway and Sora notes the trees on each side of the road and he’s sure he can see horses, too. 

“There are horses here?” Sora asks, excitement filling him and he forgets all about the fear from earlier. 

“Mhm. Eraqus wants you to have a well-rounded education.” They pull up to the castle-house, next to a fountain that is currently off due to the cold weather, and Riku finally exits the car. 

Sora tumbles out after, stiff, and stretching up to the sky as he takes in the new home. The building is tall and gray, black, and he’s sure there are gold accents. The windows are tall, taller than him, but heavily curtained. The place reminds him of another time and place as if he’s stepped into one of Riku’s dreams. 

“Come on.” Riku gestures for Sora to follow after he obtains Sora’s suitcase from the trunk. For a moment, Sora remains where he’s standing, still taking in the whole picture before dashing after Riku toward the front door. Even the door is further back, with a walkway leading up to it and the wood is glossy and black with stained glass masquing the inside. The door opens at Riku’s behest and they both pass through another shimmering wall. 

Sora shudders as he feels the magical field tringle up his spine like a static shock. “Was that more magic?”

“Yes, more wards.” Riku sets Sora’s suitcase down in the foyer and gives Sora no time to take everything in before leading him back through the house, down different hallways until they come to a new door. He knocks once and the door opens a moment later, to reveal a large office, with an older man sitting in an armchair, reading a book which is being held aloft by nothing that Sora can see. It’s just floating at the perfect reading distance while the man enjoys tea. 

“Ah, Riku,” he says, turning dark eyes over to them. His black hair is streaked with gray and he has a black mustache and slight beard. “This must be young Sora.” 

Riku nods and bows at the waist. “Master Eraqus.” Sora blinks and tries to follow Riku’s lead but Master Eraqus holds up his hand. 

“It is quite alright. I hope the trip here was pleasant. I sent Riku instead of Roxas because I thought you would have a better chance at making a friend before arriving.” Eraqus chuckles. “Roxas is a good lad but he is… difficult to get along with.” 

Riku snorts in agreement but then blushes and ducks his head as he realizes a faux pax. “I will take Sora’s things to his room, Master.” 

“Thank you, Riku. Sora, will you join me for a bit?” Eraqus stretches his hand out to gesture to a chair and Sora watches as a chair moves across the floor on its own. 

“S-sure,” Sora says but he wishes Riku could stay, too. He watches Riku leave and then slowly walks over to sit down. 

“Did Riku answer any of your questions on the way?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Excellent. What others do you have that I may answer that he could not?” 

“Uh… I… don’t know,” Sora replies, still taking the room in. The room is tall and circular, with bookshelves on every wall, and the ceiling stretches up and Sora is fairly certain the image is of the night sky. The floor is covered in rugs and pillows, and the tea Eraqus had been enjoying is now floating nearby along with the book. 

“I am sure this is very overwhelming,” Eraqus says and Sora nods. “Your parents contacted me when they realized you were exhibiting powers. Very detrimental ones.” 

“Yeah,” Sora whispers in shame. “I didn’t mean to-.” 

“It is alright Sora, you didn’t know… Your power is very unique. You can leech souls from a body and turn them into empty vessels through touch. If you were to do this to another witch, you would take their power, drain them completely if under the right circumstances.”

“I… I  _ took _ Yozora’s  _ soul _ ?” Sora cries as he plummets off a cliff of disbelief. “That’s insane!” 

“That is magic,” Eraqus whispers. 

“What good is that even?! I… That’s not even useful!” Sora hides his face in shame, realizing he should have brought gloves and no wonder Riku had never offered a handshake. 

“It can be very useful if under the right circumstances and if you can learn to control the hunger and power you feel,” Eraqus corrects. “Say we ever have a rogue witch, one who works without laws, you could potentially save everyone by simply tampering that witch’s power until we can control them and stop them from harming themselves or others.” 

“I… guess,” Sora whispers. “I don’t want to take someone’s soul!” 

“With the proper training, you will be able to control your powers, Sora. I swear it.” Eraqus offers out a hand. “May I?” 

Sora flicks his gaze to Eraqus’ hand and hesitates. He doesn’t want to touch the old man and hurt him. “I…” 

“Do not worry, Sora. I am a Master… I have learned to harness many powers. All witches are able to do  _ one _ thing very well without any effort but any witch can do more than that with help. A Master can harness many powers and use them just like their original power. With no effort or assistance from others. You cannot hurt me but I do wish to see how powerful you are.” 

One more moment of hesitation and he grasps onto Eraqus’ hand. The chilling sensation floods him and the room, drawing both of their breaths out into white clouds. Eraqus’ eyes widen and the hunger fills Sora’s core; he wants more, he wants to keep pulling and siphoning the power away. For a moment, there is a flash of worry in the old man’s gaze but then he yanks away and breaks contact. With another flick of his wrist, a ward passes between them like a wall and Sora feels the hunger disappear and the room returns to its original temperature. 

Tears fill his eyes and he covers his face in shame as he sobs. 

“Sora,” Eraqus whispers. “It is alright. You’re safe here… but until we can control your power, I would suggest gloves.” 

He nods. “My hands are always cold,” he whimpers. 

“I will have some made especially for you, Sora.” Eraqus smiles but Sora can see the worry behind his eyes. “Now,” he pauses to clap and the door opens and a young woman stands in its place. “This is Aqua, she is a master in training. She will give you a tour.” 

“Okay,” Sora whispers. “Thank you, Sir.” 

“You are most welcome, Sora. Welcome to Scala ad Caelum.” 

Sora nods and follows Aqua out, feeling worse than when he started and his hunger has not gone away. “Riku said there would be food?”

Aqua nods and smiles. “Yes, how about we go eat and then I can give you a quick tour. At least to show your room.” 

“Riku said there wasn’t a name for this place.” 

“Not officially,” Aqua replies. “But Eraqus comes from a city named Scala ad Caelum and he calls this place that, too.” She smiles and winks. “Let’s go get something to eat. Roxas made tons.” 

“ _ Please _ .” 

Aqua quickens her pace and Sora almost has to jog to keep up with her but they go across the house and into a dining area where there are others already sitting to eat. Sora’s eyes lurch over to Riku since he’s the only one he knows. There are others too, a blonde boy with a frown on his face when they walk in, a tall brunette man around Aqua’s age, a shorter dark-haired girl who is talking to a blonde girl holding a sketchbook on the table. 

“Aqua,” the brunette man says and he smiles softly. 

“Hello, Terra. Everyone, this is Sora. Sora, this is Terra, Roxas, Xion, Naminé, and you’ve met Riku.” 

Sora nods, waving shyly. “Hi…” He blushes when they all look at him and then he slowly slinks over to sit by Riku but makes sure to keep his distance. If his powers could affect a Master, then he has no idea if anyone else even stands a chance. 

“Did that go well?” Riku asks. 

“I don’t know,” Sora replies. He turns his eyes to the food and noes there is quite a lot to choose from and wonders how one person could make so much. Roast beef, potatoes, vegetables, desserts he can’t even place, and others. 

“This looks so good, Roxas,” Aqua says and smiles while Roxas’ face slowly relinquishes the scowl. 

“Yeah,” Sora agrees. 

“It was nothing,” Roxas replies. “Dig in, don’t let it get cold though.” 

Sora eagerly reaches over to start digging into anything and everything. Chicken nuggets pale by comparison and everything is so good he can hear himself moaning as he eats but doesn’t care. Roxas points to him and laughs which makes him pause, mouth full of mashed potatoes. 

“I like him,” Roxas says. “Guy knows how to eat.” 

Sora blushes but finally manages to slow down and control himself before he chokes. The table is full of casual conversation and Sora is surprised no one has asked him about his powers or his story but maybe Eraqus or Riku told them not to. He’s definitely relieved he doesn’t have to share everything right now but he’s sure his time will come. When dinner ends, Sora feels the weight of exhaustion almost plummet him off of his seat and onto the floor but Riku helps him up and they start walking together. He notes, Riku is only touching him over his clothes and never skin to skin. 

So he knows. 

They probably all do. 

Tear burn his eyes as he wonders why  _ now _ ? Why did his powers manifest  _ now _ ? “Is it normal for powers to just show up one day and then you have them but never before?” Sora asks while they walk. 

“Sometimes, they stay hidden for a while until something awakens them,” Riku replies. “Master Eraqus will be able to help you figure that out. I’ve had mine for… most of my life, so, unfortunately, I’m not one to know about it but I’m sure it’s normal, too.” 

Of course, he’s sure Riku is right but Riku could also be reaching. Maybe he’s not normal and maybe they’ll have to lock him up forever. The thought makes him sad but they’ve reached his room and he has no time to really dwell on it because all he can do is beeline it for the bed. He doesn’t even undress or unpack, he just falls face first into the mattress. It’s not even too dusty or stiff. Everything is soft and almost suspiciously how he likes his bed. Maybe the room is magic, too. 

Riku chuckles. “Good night, Sora. Sleep well.” 

“Good night, Riku,” he mumbles back. 

Sleep is not far behind the closing of the new bedroom door. 

* * *

_ axxxel _ : hey man

_ oblivion:  _ hey ax

_ axxxel _ : how’s life? How was dinner? Mine is CRAZY

_ oblivion _ : what’s wrong?

_ axxxel _ : ah just work crap u know how it is

_ oblivion _ : I guess lol life is fine, there’s a new kid named Sora, looks a little sheltered but seems nice. He liked my cooking

_ axxxel _ : are you ever gonna cook for me?

_ oblivion _ : you know I want to ax

_ axxxel _ : you should come hang out, I’m bored

Roxas bites his lip as he considers Axel’s offer. He’s been talking to Axel for a few years now, they met in an online game and had started talking to one another one on one a month later. Now, he considers Axel one of his best friends, even though they’ve never met in person. He  _ wants _ to go to Axel’s house, he  _ wants _ to leave this stupid place but there are rules.

_ oblivion _ : idek where you live lol what if you’re miles away

_ axxxel _ : I live in Radiant Gardens!

Radiant Gardens is the city adjacent to where he is now. They’re technically at least fifty miles apart but it would be doable. Maybe not in a night but definitely in a day. Especially if he uses some magical help.

_ axxxel _ : thought you knew that, sorry lol

_ oblivion _ : that’s not far away from me,I mean it’s kinda far, like 50 miles

_ axxxel _ : holy shi* that is kinda far, I didn’t realize…. Where you located? I can’t believe we’ve never asked this before wow

_ oblivion _ : it’s complicated, where I am

_ axxxel _ : why?

_ axxxel _ : oh right the “rules” and “powers that be” so dumb

_ oblivion _ : tell me about it… but just give me a second, ok? Brb

_ axxxel _ : sure

Roxas pulls away from the computer and focuses on the magic in his core, clutching the symbol around his neck as a focus. The atmosphere next to him shimmers and out of the particles, his duplicate shimmers to life. He turns his eyes to the twinned boy and looks Ven over and rolls his eyes. He never quite turns out right, they definitely have differences but upon glancing, no one would know the difference.

The real issue is when Ven opens his mouth.

“Roxas,” Ventus says and yawns. “I was resting, it’s late. You should be asleep.”

“Well, I’m not. I need you to do me a favor, the biggest favor I’ve ever asked you to do.”

Ven groans. “I am  _ not _ going to help you steal stuff, Roxas!”

“No, I don’t want that, I want you to pretend to be me. For one day.” Roxas stands up and goes to his closet to find an outfit he would wear on a daily basis. “I don’t have any lessons tomorrow, so it shouldn’t be hard to fake.” He tosses Ven some clothes to put on since he always appears nude. “Here, cover up.”

Ventus pulls the clothes on, looking unhappy to be wearing anything from Roxas’ closet. “I don’t want to be you,” he snaps.

“You  _ are _ me,” Roxas growls.

“I’m  _ Ventus _ ,” Ven shoots back.

When Roxas first realized he could make a duplicate, the duplicate had been happy as a clam to be him but as they grew older, Ventus had claimed his own name and personality. Now, Ventus resented him at times and wanted to be his own person. Controlling him was difficult and Roxas had basically given up, usually letting Ven do whatever he wanted since the most harm Ven ever did was pet a puppy and make flirty eyes at Terra.

“Can you just  _ please _ be me for one day? I’m  _ dying _ to get out of here and meet Axel in person. Please, Ven.” He doesn’t like begging, least of all begging Ventus, but desperate times and all.

Ven folds his arms over his chest. “You never let me out and then when you do, it’s to do what  _ you _ want. Never what I want.”

“Ventus, I will let you come out more often if you do this one thing for me. Just pretend to be me. Stay in my room all day, pretend I’m sick, and I’ll be back tomorrow night. Please.” He’s going to regret making promises to Ven, especially ones he has no intention of keeping but meeting Axel is so important.

Ventus huffs. “Fine. You owe me.”

“ _ Thank  _ you,” Roxas gasps. He returns to the computer, a wild grin on his face.

_ Oblivion _ : give me your address

* * *

Nervous tics make his fingers play across the linoleum table and the dim lights make the meeting seem more clandestine than it really is. Kelly, his waitress, stops by his spot to give him some more coffee and Axel wonders if he should have waited longer before coming here. Roxas had to travel fifty miles which isn’t a small trek. He waited an hour before showing up at the diner, though, and now he’s so antsy he can feel his heart throb in his ears.

A car pulls up out front and a short blonde steps out. Axel’s heart leaps into his throat; Roxas is blonde but he never pictured him so… small. The kid – he hopes Roxas isn’t a liar and he’s not about to meet up with a teenager – walks into the diner with purpose and they make eye contact as soon as he steps in. He starts to sweat and then the kid is walking up to his table and sitting down.

Axel blinks a few times. “Uh, can I help you?”

“It’s me, Axel. It’s Roxas. You don’t recognize me?” Roxas raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve not seen my face.”

Axel squints and pictures Roxas’ photos and realizes it is him but he’s still having a crisis on how short Roxas is in real life. “You’re… not as tall as I pictured.”

Roxas snorts. “You wanna see my driver’s license? Make sure I’m legal?”

“Sorry.” Axel shakes his head and then finally smiles.  _ Roxas _ . “You’re really here.”

“Yeah, I’m really here.” Roxas smiles back and Axel feels soft fondness fill his chest. “And yes, I really am twenty. I know I look twelve but I’m not.”

“it’s okay,” Axel laughs. “You look great, Rox.”

Roxas’ cheeks turn pink which makes Axel’s heart flutter in response. They’ve been casually flirting for a few years but now they’re in person. He wouldn’t call this a date since they’re just meeting for the first time, but Axel hopes maybe they can date soon. They’ve definitely skirted around the topic for a while now. “So, you feeding me?” Roxas asks. “Thought you wanted me to cook for you.”

“Right,” Axel says. “I do! I just… thought it’d be better to meet somewhere in public first but now that I know you’re not a cop or a minor, I’m chill.”

“I was kidding,” Roxas teases.

“Right.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Yeah…” Axel acquiesces and his face turns red, too. “You’re just way hotter in person.”

“So are you.”

_ Oh, God _ . There it is again; the casual flirting. “So, uh, hungry? I’ll pay.”

“Sure. Starving.”

When Kelly returns, they both order cheeseburgers with extra crispy fries and two chocolate milkshakes. Axel can already hear Isa’s derisive snort at their play-date but he shoves Isa’s opinions away. Roxas is so much better in person and even though he’s a complete idiot, he’s glad Roxas hasn’t called him out on it yet.

“So, how’d you spring free?” Axel asks.

“Oh, uh…” Roxas slowly trails off and plays with his napkin like a nervous response. “Just got away.”

“You snuck out, didn’t you?” Axel chuckles. “Respect.”

“Well, I got tired of being there and I just wanted to see you… so… here I am.”

“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

“Hope not.”

“Could maybe pull this off again?”

Roxas smirks. “Hope so.”

“Maybe next time, I’ll come to you-.”

“No!”

The words shoot out of Roxas fast and harsh which makes Axel’s eyebrows raise. “Uh… okay?”

“Sorry, just… it’s not safe… where I am.”

“It’s not? Roxas-.”

“I mean, for you. It’s not safe for you.”

“Oh.” Axel’s eyes narrow as he tries to parse the meaning of this new information. “You go to a school full of homophobes or something?”

“I mean.. it’s…” Roxas cuts off because their food is placed down in front of him and he has something to do with his mouth and hands. Axel sighs because he has a feeling he’s never going to receive a straight answer out of Roxas. Isa would tell him not to push the issue so he doesn’t.

“Can’t wait to introduce you to Isa so I can finally prove that you’re real,” Axel says as a segue into a new conversation. “He’s always on me about making online friends like I’m twelve and might be talking to a big scary bad man.”

“He sounds stuck up.”

Axel snorts. “Is’…. Is’ is just tired, most of the time. He’s really not that bad, I swear.”

“You guys live together, right?” Roxas asks.

“Yeah, Is’ lets me be a mooch,” Axel teases. “I mean, I assist him with his job so I guess I’m not  _ mooching _ but sometimes it feels like it. I mean, I help him run the shopfront and then I play video games. Seems pretty lowkey but it pays our bills.”

“What does he do again?” Roxas asks and Axel feels a small bit of dread fill him. He knew this day would come and he knows he’s going to take Roxas back with him and he’s going to see the shop soon anyway. May as well be out with it.

“He’s a medium,” Axel replies and shrugs casually. He tries not to think about the dead boy’s bones they have lying on the kitchen table at home. He needs to message Isa and tell him to hide those asap.

“He… talks to the dead?” Roxas asks and Axel can already hear the disbelief. “Sounds fake.”

“He’s not a fake.” Axel puts his burger down so he can focus. “Isa… Isa is the real deal. I know it sounds crazy but-.”

“Sounds like he’s a sham and he’s fooled you, too.”

Axel’s eyes narrow. “Hey, don’t say that about my friend. Isa is real and what he does is real. You’ll see when we go back to the house.” He can see Roxas look skeptical but there is also something else shining in Roxas’ eyes; curiosity? Confusion? A twinge of belief? He can’t quite grasp onto the emotion but he lets that go, too.

“Their burgers are good,” Roxas says after a gap in the conversation leaves them both quiet for a while.

“Yeah, they are.” He agrees but is no longer hungry so he has a box to go and waits for Roxas to finish downing his milkshake. He’s never been made to feel smart but he does do well with studying people’s habits; he tracks Roxas’ movements and notes he seems to really savor his food and pick it apart, bit by bit until he’s decided if he likes the flavor or not. He knows Roxas is a cook so maybe it comes from trying to decide if he can remake a dish himself and make it better. Maybe it’s just how he eats.

“Ready to go?” Roxas asks once Axel has paid the bill.

“Yeah,” Axel agrees. “How’d you get here, anyway?”

“I walked into town and took a cab here. It wasn’t cheap.” Roxas snorts.

“Oh, I can reimburse you-.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. How you gonna get home?”

“Haven’t gotten that far yet, let’s just go.”

Axel nods and they head for the Jeep. The drive back to his house isn’t long, since the diner is just off of the freeway to Radiant Gardens but they live just on the outskirts of town, in their old house which Axel is so fond of. He loves all of the creaks and ugly window treatments, and chipped paint. Isa refuses to change anything about the house, except to occasionally renovate so they have modern appliances, but everything else is the same. Same floor, same wallpaper, same terrible heating system.

“This is your house?” Roxas asks as they pull into the driveway.

“Yep. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, kinda creepy but I like it.”

Axel snorts. “Yeah, Isa knows how to pick ‘em.”

“So, this is Isa’s house?”

“I mean, it’s our house. His and mine.” Axel shrugs and he leads Roxas up the porch steps and in through the double doors at the front. He’s always liked the front door, even if Isa doesn’t care for the stained glass in the front. The house is large, too big for both of them but the front is the shop and the rest of the house is theirs personally so it works out in the end.

“Wow,” Roxas says as he steps in, wiping his shoes and taking them off when they step inside. “It’s huge.”

“That’s what she said,” Axel teases and Roxas flips him off in response. He laughs. “Hey, Isa? Isa, you home?! I got a guest I want you to meet! Isa-.”

“You don’t have to shout,” comes Isa’s voice, clipped and annoyed, as he appears on the stairway like the ghosts he speaks to. “I could hear your Jeep a mile away, Axel.”

“Sorry.” Axel blushes and gestures to Roxas. “This is Roxas. My friend. The one I’ve told you about?”

Isa regards Roxas with narrowed eyes and he looks unimpressed. “I didn’t realize you associated with children, Axel.”

“I’m twenty,” Roxas snarls. “’Bout to be twenty-one.”

“I see,” Isa replies.

“Is’, come on, I just got done talking you up, don’t be a dick.” Axel glances at Roxas and gives him an uncertain glance. He doesn’t want Roxas to feel unwelcome.

“Forgive me,” Isa says and finishes coming down the stairs to stand nearby but not too close. “I’ve had a very long week and am tired. It is also late.”

“Right, sorry, you were probably asleep.” Axel blushes and immediately kicks himself for waking Isa up; he hardly has enough sleep as it is and doesn’t need his help missing out on a few hours. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t asleep but I appreciate your apology regardless.” Isa looks Roxas over one more time and starts toward the kitchen with a quickened step. “Make him use a condom, Axel!”

_ Oh my God _ . Axel feels his face burn bright red and he gestures to the stairs. “My room is upstairs, if you wanna see…”

“I want to see Isa at work,” Roxas replies, and Axel is very thankful he’s ignored the condom comment. “You said he’s the real deal.”

“He’s tired,” Axel reminds him. “he hardly sleeps because spirits never do. They’re up his ass twenty-four, seven, three-six-five. It sucks.”

Roxas’ eyes narrow a little but he thankfully turns to follow Axel up the stairs to his bedroom. Axel lets out a sigh of relief and he gestures to the various doorways. “That’s the bathroom, Isa’s room is at the end of the hall and my room is right here.” He turns to the door on their left. “It’s not much but I like it enough.”

They both turn and Axel dashes into his room to flop onto the bed and let Roxas take everything in. He’s mostly a walking tornado but he’d tried to tidy up before Roxas arrived; he picked up all of his dirty clothes and shoved them into a hamper, and he gathered up all of the trash to take outside. Now, there is a floor instead of a trash heap to walk through. The walls are covered in posters and various photographs he’s taken over the years and cutouts from magazines. There is one window, overlooking the front of the house and his computer desk is right against the window, the old desktop quietly whirring as it sleeps. The floors are hardwood, along with the rest of the house, and the closet door is propped open with his hamper.

“It’s very you,” Roxas replies as he inspects everything. “It’s pretty much exactly how I pictured it looking. Even the fairy lights.” He turns to where Axel’s strung up lights all around the room, currently, they’re turned off but he’s always liked a little mood lighting.

Axel grins and remains on the bed. “Sorry about Isa, he’s just…”

“Tired?”

“I mean, yeah… You would be too if ghosts were always bugging you. He’s really not that bad, I swear. He gets jealous…” Axel snorts and rubs his face. “He won’t admit it but I think he’s jealous of you.”

“Of  _ me _ ? He doesn’t even know me.”

“I know but I talk about you all the time. I think he thinks I’m replacing him with you.”

“Hm.” Roxas looks around his room some more before finally walking over to sit down next to Axel on the bed. “Do you have a crush on Isa, too, or just on me?”

The question leaves Axel stammering as he tries to come up with the right answer. “Uh, I- … I mean.. uh..”

A cool smirk crosses Roxas’ face. The kind of satisfied smirk when you’ve won a game and bested your opponent. “I was kidding but I guess that answers that, huh? I like you, too, Axel.”

Axel coughs and looks down, feeling a little stupid. “I mean, we do flirt a lot.”

“We do.”

“I just meant, Isa thinks you’re my new best friend and I want to be friends with him which isn’t true and-.” He’s cut off when Roxas leans over to press a kiss to his lips; it’s quick and chaste but Axel still blushes as loudly as his hair color. “Wow…”

On one hand, it feels too fast to already be kissing but on the other hand, it feels like many years in the making.

“Was that okay?” Roxas asks. “I should have asked first… I’m sorry-.”

“No, it’s okay,” Axel replies quickly. “It was fine. I liked it. Does it feel too soon?”

“Axel, we’ve been flirting for like two years and friends for longer.” Well, that was true.

“Right,” Axel whispers. “Do it again.”

Roxas smiles and leans over to oblige.

* * *

Isa stares down at the bones lying on the kitchen table; they’ve managed to put most of Vanitas together but there is one grave spot missing on the map. He’s marked the spots off with a map pinned to the kitchen wall and noted that they almost form a pentagram. Xehanort had worked hard to bind Vanitas to the earth and part of Isa is afraid to know  _ why _ .

_ Have you found the last marker yet? _

“No,” Isa whispers and he turns to see the half-formed shade sitting in his kitchen. He can’t make out Vanitas’ features but the ghost is boy shaped. “Why don’t you tell me where it is, instead of making me guess?”

_ It is taxing for me to search. I know where it is and then I forget again. Whatever spell he put on my bones is a good one. And he was always so afraid of witches. _

“Your father feared what you were but he also used magic to bind you?” Isa shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

_ Neither do I. I wish I knew more to tell you. _

Isa ties his hair out of his face, putting it up into a messy bun on his head, while he rubs his sleep-deprived eyes in desperation. The pentagram wasn’t difficult to complete but the area the last pin should rest in is vast and the grave could be anywhere within five miles of the area. It’s almost all of the way to Hollow Bastion which is fifty miles north.

_ Hollow Bastion, _ Vanitas whispers.  _ I know that name. Why do I know that name? _

“I don’t know,” Isa replies and he sinks onto a dining room chair, regarding Vanitas’ body sadly.

_ It sounds so familiar, like a place my father must have mentioned. What is there? _

“It’s a town, another city,” Isa replies. “It’s bigger than this place.”

_ This town wasn’t always so big. _

“I know,” Isa replies. “It’s changed a lot in thirty years.” He glances at the ghost and then away again; he doesn’t like to look too long into a shade’s form, fearing he may be pulled in through the veil.

_ Hollow Bastion… Hollow Bastion… Father mentioned it before but I can’t… quite remember. Someone he knew lived there. _

“A lot of people live there,” Isa replies, voice flat.

_ Someone important. Someone he used to call friend. Erick-us. _

Isa frowns, his brows pinching together as he glances up again toward Vanitas. “Eraqus?” he asks, the name ringing alarm bells in his head. He thinks back to Scala ad Caelum and his time there; brief and traumatizing, he’s glad to be free of their clutches.

_ Yes. That is the name my father knew. _

“Xehanort,” Isa whispers and shakes his head. He knew the name but had refused to believe they were the same man. “Your Father… is Master Xehanort?”

_ What? _

“I never met him, he’d been gone by the time I went to the school but he was a legend there… He was a witch, too.”

_ No _ .

“There is a place where witches go to learn and control their power in Hollow Bastion. They call it Scala ad Caelum, your father, Xehanort Caelum, was one of the founders. You’re his son…”

_ My father was a witch hunter. He killed witches. He wasn’t one of them. He thought they were abominations _ .

“Your father was kicked out of Scala ad Caelum for these radical views on witchcraft or the rumors say. He was so focused on darker paths, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his anger on his own kind.”

There is silence after and Isa wonders if he somehow stunned a ghost into silence. Unlike the other spirits, Isa finds that he likes Vanitas and is almost sad when his voice disappears. However, it does allow him a moment to focus on the map again, trying to pinpoint where a witch would bury their own son. It makes his skin crawl as he thinks about how Xehanort burned his own son at the stake.

_ My father never did any magic. _

“That you know of,” Isa replies. There is another bout of silence and then a glass sitting on the table is shoved off and onto the floor, shattering, and scattering pieces all over the place. “Vanitas!”

_ You don’t know anything. Ugly. _

“Break something of mine again and I will bury you far away from here and you won’t ever get to move on, do I make myself clear?” he snarls. “Brat.” Isa sighs and slowly drags himself onto his feet and moves to find a broom and dust pant.

There is another long silence before a small voice whispers,  _ I just don’t understand. _

“I know… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It doesn’t make sense and I’m sorry.”

_ I’m so angry. _

“You were murdered.”

_ I want him to suffer. _

“Understandable.”

_ He told me to hate witches but he was one. _

“Your father was a complicated man.”

_ He’s the worst. _

“Yes, I agree.”

_ Is he alive? _

“I… don’t know. I’d have to see if I can find out.”

_ I want to know. I need to know. Isa… Please. _

He’d never heard Vanitas beg before but the small please makes his heart sink. “I’ll look,” he promises. “I make no promises because I may not be able to find him but I will do what I can, Vanitas.”

“Are you talking to that dead boy?” Axel asks and Isa startles, turning around, and like a puff of smoke, he sees Vanitas’ shade vanish.

“Don’t come in here, there’s glass all over the place,” Isa snaps, making Axel halt. “Are you not upstairs having a make out session?”

Axel snorts. “You know, I don’t know what I did to get on your bad side but could you please get off my bus? You’re being really mean for no reason, Isa.”

He wants to snap again with words of vitriol but he holds his tongue. Axel had replaced him with his new best friend Roxas a long time ago; all he ever does is talk about Roxas and now Roxas is here and real. Roxas is a living, breathing person who probably isn’t plagued by nightmares or speaking with the dead. One day, Axel will leave, and he will only have his old house and spirits to keep him company.

Yes, he’s bitter.

“I’m sorry,” Isa replies and tries to hurriedly sweep so Axel can come into the kitchen. “Watch your feet.”

“Yes, mom,” Axel teases as he dances past.

“And where is your friend?”

“Upstairs. I’m getting snacks, we’re gonna watch a show. Y’know, Netflix and  _ chill _ .” Axel waggles his eyebrows and Isa rolls his eyes as a response. “So, you figure out where the rest of him is?”

“Not yet… Axel?”

“Yeah?”

“You are quite literate when it comes to finding people on the internet, can you help me with a search?”

“For who?”

“Xehanort Caelum.”

“The kid’s dad?” Axel asks with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I guess.”

“You don’t have to, I just figured you would find someone faster than I will,” Isa replies.

“Why do you want to know? Isa, look, I love you but I will  _ not _ commit murder for you, man, no matter how justified-.”

“Forget it, Axel. Pretend I didn’t say anything.” Isa sighs and continues to sweep, gathering all of the glass he can see into one pile.

“This kid’s got you more stressed than most, man, you really need to let it go.” Axel stacks his snacks and starts toward the back staircase. “Get some  _ sleep _ .”

“Good night, Axel.”

“Night, Isa.”

Alone again.

Isa sweeps up the glass into the dustpan to dump into the trash and then sinks back onto a chair. He needs to hide Vanitas’ bones or Roxas may come downstairs and call the cops. He gathers each piece gently, placing them in a velvet bag he’d found which used to hold fireplace pokers. He keeps his fingers gentle, not wanting any bones to crack or break.

_ What are you doing? _

“I’m hiding you from our guest upstairs unless you would like me to go to jail and then I will not be able to assist you from prison,” Isa snaps, feeling his anger rise.

_ You’re very irritable. _

“You aren’t exactly a picnic.”

_ Who hurt you, ugly? _

Isa closes his eyes and grits his teeth, feeling them grind in frustration. “Leave me alone, Vanitas,” he snarls. “I’m begging you, please, give me a moment’s peace. I’m going to try to help you but I am at the end of my rope.”

Silence answers him and Isa feels his muscles relax and a long breath escapes his lungs. Exhaustion colors his vision as he hides Vanitas’ bones beneath the sink, and he manages to stumble to his office to review the computer. He types in Xehanort’s name and comes up very few results; of course, the magical world is removed from the mortal’s world, so Isa isn’t surprised to not find anything worthy of attention about him. He scrolls around the internet for a while until his eyes can no longer stay open and he’s fighting the urge to let his head drop onto his desk.

_ There. _

Isa snaps his head up, feeling himself nod off, as Vanitas hisses in his ear. Blurry vision slowly comes into focus like a telephoto lens until he pinpoints what Vanitas was referring to; a website listing patients for a nursing home north of Hollow Bastion. He opens the link and writes down the address and phone number to leave on his desk.

“I’ll call them tomorrow,” he tells Vanitas. “Now, I’m going to bed. You should rest, too.”

_ All I do is rest _ , Vanitas spits back nastily.

Isa snorts. “Right. Poor choice of words. Regardless, good night, Vanitas.”

_ Good night, ugly. _

Isa rolls his eyes and meanders upstairs to his bedroom, ignoring any sounds coming from Axel’s room. The bed welcomes him and he eases down, burying himself underneath blankets and pillows to drown out all light and sound. He’s exhausted from lack of sleep but sleep still remains elusive. His mind travels back to Scala ad Caelum and the time he spent there; the way Eraqus had quickly dismissed him and sent him on his way after he’d been unable to control his abilities to speak with ghosts.

A reject.

He shudders, feeling his anger rise for a second time.

Due to his lack of control, he’d been deemed as unworthy of their protection and help. Eraqus turned away any witch he thought was not controllable. Isa hated the place and hated how many children they’d harmed there. He shudders and sinks as far into the blankets as he can go, begging sleep to find him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/xenogl0ssia)


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